


Radio

by SomeonesSherlock



Category: No Fandom, There will be a fandom for this though
Genre: Gay Male Character, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 07:36:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3111467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomeonesSherlock/pseuds/SomeonesSherlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every once in awhile, you meet someone, and you think that maybe... just, maybe... you've been doing something right after all, and you deserve them in your life. Now, when I say that, I literally mean it, because for the longest time, I have been alone and tired and wanting to just die - because of the fact that I really fucking hate everything because of my father's alcoholic tendencies - if it wasn't for Nona, and Miles McHemby, and my little radio.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you like it. This is my first story here and I hope it gets big!

A little bitty author's note: 

This is MINE. It's a work of fiction. I wrote it. It came from my brain, you know? That ten pound slab of meat protected by my skull? Yeah. That brain. 

I wanna dedicate this to my friends. They encouraged me to write this, and so I did. SO, here I am, writing it. 

Let your reading commence.


	2. One.

* * *

A weight. I felt a weight on my bed.

After frowning and glaring at Winona Wakefeild (affectionately nicknamed Nona the moment she stepped into my home to be my second mom), I sat up and watched her lips and hands move slowly.

_'Oliver, you got to get up! Remember? Today's the day!'_

The moment my mind registered what she'd said, I was up and bolting out of bed, a grin on my face as I pondered on what I was to wear for the day, as today was officially 'The Day My Dad Would be Taking Me on a Dad/Son Day and I Would Get to Have Conversations With Him'.

Quickly, I was dressed, my shoes were tied and I was bolting downstairs, eager to spend a  _whole day_ with my dad. A grin was etched across my features and I was ready to sign a morning greeting to Nona, until she turned around and I caught a glimpse of what she was ranting about. 

"God damned no-good sons of bitches- ooh! I could be a better mamma AND deddy then they is; no good, dirty rotten..." 

Knowing Nona, she wasn't going to stop for awhile, so, I waltzed to the kitchen, a smile on my face as I waited for my dad to come downstairs.

That was when I caught sight of it. 

A small, yellow sticky note, crudely stuck to the fridge as if someone left it in a hurry. I didn't even want to look at it but I knew I had to. My only wish at the moment:  _Why did we not have more drawings and old family photos on this fridge?_

Slowly, as if it held a capsule of the black plague and was bound to break when I picked it up, I read the sticky note. 

_ Quick work meeting! Won't be back till late tonight. We'll go next weekend. I swear. With love. xo _

I put the note down just as slowly as I picked it up. In my opinion what was on it was worse than the black plague. I looked at Nona, who had a grandmotherly-angry look. The kind of look that you know someone's about to 'get they ass beat.' She grabbed her walker and quickly motioned me over, waiting until I was in front of her before she spoke. 

"Come on, Oliver. I'll take ya somewhere. We gon' go, just you and me. How 'bout that?"

I sighed, and nodded, a small smile etching it's way across my features as I nodded. Though I was truly very excited to go with my dad and have a dad slash son day, I knew that he wouldn't do anything but drop me off at the Riverchase Galleria, give me two hundred bucks, tell me to have fun and leave, and a few hours later he'd come back and ask me how it was as we drove home so he could fuck his poor excuse of a wife. 

And I know what I would answer, if I ever did answer to his questions:  _"Would have been better hanging out with you, dad."_ Of course, he knew I wouldn't answer or even speak to him, so he would continue to drone on and on and on while I stared out the window and wondered why I even bothered trying to do anything with him. 

Nona had to snap to get me out of my nightmare. Her hands flew up and she signed me, asking if I was okay and I managed a nod and a smile. She nodded and began to walk to the front door, motioning for me to follow after her. And so I did. I helped her walk to the small yellow punch-bug she owned (which used to belong to her son, Zachariah Phinneas Wakefield, but he died) , and then helped her into it. 

Nona smiled at me, offering a quiet "Thank you, baby" which caused me to smile and nod. I shut her door, jiggling the handle to make sure it stayed put and ran to the other side, sitting in the passenger seat. When I buckled, Nona started the car and began to drive. 

The moment we left Sylacauga and got to Oak Grove, I began to question Nona's actions as my hands slowly went up as she stopped at a stoplight. ' _Nona, where are we going?'_

Nona said nothing, but smiled at me (which was kind of frightening because she was old, and bony and looked like one of the evil Disney characters, even though she was really sweet and caring). 

Finally after a moment, she spoke. 

"I'm taking you to the Red Barn."

I guess my look gave me away because Nona chuckled and patted my head. "Is old and run down, but you gon' like it."

Of course, I had heard of the Red Barn yard sale, as it was one of the biggest lots for yard-selling on the line between Oak Grove and Childersburg. People from all over Sylacauga, Oak Grove, Childersburg and Birmingham go there to sell their gently-used goods, starting from twenty bucks and going down. Apparently, it becomes hell when you try to find a parking space, as you go row after row and slowly become infuriated with yourself as you ask God why, and ask YOURSELF why you didn't repent to the big man when you hit that girl in the head with a spoon in seventh grade, even if she was a snot nosed bitch and deserved it, because maybe THAT was why you couldn't find a parking space in this maze of old, run down cars.

After sixteen minutes of searching for a good spot (surprisingly under a dogwood tree; SHADE, WOOHOO) , Nona stopped the bug and tapped my shoulder, asking me for help. "Come on, young'in. We're here."

I glanced at her, nodded, and got out of the car, sliding over the hood (which earned me a slap to the back of the head, but it was so worth it because I felt like a cool guy) , and opening her door. When I tried to help her out, she swatted her little old-lady fan at me and got out herself, putting her cane on the ground. 

"I ain't in need of gettin' help gettin' my fat ass outta this car, Oliver." She smiled at me as she spoke. I smiled back, but made a choked noise as she hit my head again with her cane. 

"But you slide over the hood o' my car one more 'gain i'mma hurtchu." 

I rubbed my head and nodded, blinking and frowning. Her small frown turned to a smile as she rubbed my head, and I caught sight of her golden tooth. When I was little (and wasn't deaf) she would tell me 'the Golden Tooth Story.' She told me that a wolf stole her actual tooth, and she couldn't be seen without it, so she grabbed a gold nugget and slapped it in there. And honestly? I still like to believe that's true. 

Nona stopped hobbling away and turned around, motioning me to follow so I don't get lost. I quickly ran to her side. She looked at me and spoke as she walked. "I used ta bring you here all the time, when you was a youngin'.You loved gettin' the little army G.I. Joe's and I wouldn't mind payin' for 'em. Ooh, you'd play with 'em all damn day, ignorin' whatcha momma and daddy got for ya. You never really cared for the electro-dads and doo-wops they'd get, but you loved playing with G.I. Joe. Always had him in ya hand."

Gently, I patted her shoulder and brought a hand up. " _What made you stop?"_

Nona frowned, and that little twinkle in her eyes vanished. "Yo momma and daddy. They didn't want me to 'ruin your mind'."

Quickly, I hugged her softly. She stopped talking and hugged me back, and I could imagine hearing her chuckling as her shoulders bounced.

Finally, we got to the yardsale. Nona handed me fifty cents, sending me a glare when I tried to give it back to her, patted my shoulder, told me to "find a G.I. Joe," and left for the knitting supplies. With a smile, I began to look at the table-booth-things, most likely with the same wonder and fondness I had for them when I was little.

 


End file.
